


Two Weeks

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: 1.08, AU, F/M, Voicemail Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: “And like I've told you, I'm taking time off and I'll be back when Brian's gone,” she says. “What part of that doesn't make sense to you?”





	Two Weeks

“What the fuck is he doing here?” She slams his office door so hard he actually wonders if the glass is about to shatter.

“Who?” He knows exactly who she's talking about, but for some reason he can't quite resist antagonising her just a little more.

“Has a terrible illness swept New York and killed every writer except him?” She sighs, her fury quite clear. “Actually, not even that would be a good enough reason. Why him, Will?”

“He's a decent writer, he understands the brief, he knows me, he _definitely_ knows you.” He shrugs, defiant in the face of her anger. “Seemed to make sense.”

“Bullshit.” She leans forward, her hands gripping the chair in front of her so hard that her knuckles turn white. “How long is he going to be around?”

“Two weeks, or thereabouts.” He watches as she stands up straight again and nods.

“Fine.” She turns and strides towards the door, the obvious tension in her body language sending a faint glimmer of guilt running through him.

“Surely you can deal with him here for two weeks.” He hears his own voice, his tone taunting her even as he knows he's already pushing things just by bringing Brian in. “It's not like I've given him a permanent job.”

“Oh, I _could_ deal with him, but I have no intention of trying.” She reaches the door and doesn't look back as she grabs the handle. “You brought him here, _you_ deal with him.”

He doesn't see her for the rest of the morning, but he does see Brian talking first to Jim, then Maggie, and finally Don, the only one who looks somewhat wary when Brian approaches, notepad and pen in hand. When he heads into the conference room for the rundown meeting, he's surprised to find she isn't there, he fully expected her to be the first one to arrive, sitting in her usual seat, refusing to make eye contact with him but ready to shoot down any idea he dares to voice.

“Um, so, Mac asked me to cover the meeting for her...” Jim is the only one in the room and the look in his eyes is hard to read. “She gave me some notes, so if we could-”

“Where is she?” He's curious because Mackenzie has never been one for silent protests. 

“I don't know,” Jim says with a shrug. “She just asked me if I could cover.”

“Just this meeting?” He doesn't mean to bark at Jim but he hears himself doing it anyway. 

“No.” Jim shakes his head, looking away and down at his notepad. “And, um, the show.”

“Tonight's show?” He starts to think this is more than Mackenzie trying to make a point. “Just tonight's?”

“No, she's, uh, she said she has vacation time to use so she's taking a couple of weeks off,” Jim says, looking sheepish.

He bites his tongue as the rest of the staff starts to arrive, the addition of Brian not going unnoticed by anyone, nor the absence of Mackenzie. Jim fields questions about her whereabouts with a casual air that he's grateful for, and he avoids looking at Brian entirely, aware that any hint of self- satisfaction will only add to his growing discomfort. By the time the meeting ends, he feels like he's barely contributed at all, but right now he's just glad it's over. He almost runs back to his office, closing the door behind him and reaching straight for his phone. One the third ring, he's already sure she's not going to answer, and his hunch is confirmed when he hears the start of her voicemail message. The memory of the last message he left her is still fresh, he kicks himself for it every day, her resulting silence still feeling like a punch to the gut whenever he thinks about it.  
Hanging up, he tosses the phone down onto his desk and goes to work on his script. Screw it, let her brood for a while if that's what she needs to do.

The show is uneventful, Jim is much less present in his ear than Mackenzie ever is, only speaking when he really needs to, and he finds himself actually missing the way Mackenzie needles him, the way she never lets him off easily. As he pulls his earpiece out and makes his way back to his office to change, he's already decided he needs to talk to her, and if she won't answer his calls then there's only one other option.

*

Standing outside her building he finds himself feeling like an ass. He can admit to himself that sure, Brian is a passable writer who could probably write a decent enough piece, but that's not why he chose him for it. Somewhere between leaving Mackenzie the voicemail, and the slow and painful realisation she had no intention of even mentioning it, let alone giving any indication she felt the same, he decided that this was just the right level of cruel. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him no, this was beyond that, and her reaction this morning just proved it.

“Hello?” She sounds tired but not entirely surprised that someone is on her doorstep uninvited.

“Mac, it's me.” He wonders what the fuck he was thinking, just showing up like he can fix it with a simple visit.

“Go home, Will. I don't have anything to say to you right now.” There's still a note of anger running through her tone, but it's mixed with something else; sadness, he thinks.

“I know, and I get that, but...” He steps closer to the door, lowering his voice, aware that he's standing on the street and not wanting anyone to notice him as he's about to start begging to be let in if that's what it takes. “Just give me five minutes. Please.”

He hears her sigh but then the door buzzes and he quickly lets himself in before she can change her mind and refuse any second attempt. When he reaches her door, it's open already and she's leaning against the frame, her arms folded in front of her, her expression not exactly offering a warm welcome. She doesn't say anything, she certainly doesn't smile, but when she turns and heads back inside he takes it as an invitation to follow her, which he does, down the small hallway and into the living room.

“Two weeks, Mac?” He shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as she shrugs.

“I haven't taken a single day off since I came to New York,” she says, her voice calm but with a bubbling undercurrent he knows means she's on the verge of exploding if he pushes her. “I'm perfectly entitled to take some time.”

“I'm not questioning your use of your god damn vacation time, and you know it.” He's angry now too, at her deliberate evasion.

“So what exactly _are_ you questioning?” She raises her voice and there's raw fury in her eyes. “My timing? My right to not stay in a situation I'm one hundred percent uncomfortable with? My refusal to let you keep punishing me, my-”

“I just came to see if you'd gotten over your tantrum.” He cuts her off, knowing even as he says it that it's unfair, but it's out now and he can't take it back. “And to find out if I'm genuinely going to have Jim as my EP for the next two weeks, that's all.”

“My tantrum? My fucking _tantrum_?” She's furious, her eyes are wide, and he has to fight the urge to step back. “It's funny how a man is never accused of throwing a tantrum when he takes a stand, but when a woman does it-”

“Alright, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that,” he says, holding his hands up in front of him. “I guess I just don't get why you upped and walked out, no discussion, not even an attempt to talk about it, no-”

“Here's the thing, Will.” She sighs and he senses she's trying to calm herself down. “I know you hate me, and I know I have only myself to blame for that, and mostly I can handle the punishments you dish out, because I know I hurt you and I know you have to do whatever you need to do, but this is different, this one is too much, it's a step too fucking far-”

“So what you're saying is you can't handle having Brian in the newsroom, because what? You don't like the guilt it induces, is that it?” He can't help thinking that's exactly what he hoped for, that she'd feel guilty all over again, but he's beginning to see that perhaps she never stopped.

“Oh, believe me, I don't need him standing in front of me every day to feel guilty, and I _can_ handle him there, I just refuse to.” She looks sad now, her anger diffused somewhat, and he hates that he's the cause of it. “I've spent enough time and money on therapy to know that I don't need to put myself in a situation where I have to deal with him, regardless of how much you might try to coerce me into it.”

“Coerce? Seriously, Mac, coerce?!” It's a word that doesn't sit well with him, even more so when it feels like that is what he's trying to do. “Believe it or not, not every decision I make is solely for the purpose of making you mad.”

“You can tell yourself that all you like but we both know it's bullshit.” She snaps again and takes a step back. “It's just...things seemed to be going well, you and I were working well together, we were getting along...I don't know what happened to change that.”

“Nothing happened, we're fine.” He knows what happened, the voicemail she fucking ignored, and he can't understand why she can't see it too. “Look, I made this decision on the basis that Brian is the best writer for the job, it's that simple.”

“If you came here just to fuck around with me some more, and to keep on lying to me, and to yourself, then you can just leave.” She walks past him to the door, turning to him, her hand on the handle. “I'll see you in two weeks. Or before if he manages to file his story sooner.”

“There really isn't a story if you're not there,” he says, wondering if he should just call Brian right now and take him off the job. “The whole profile is based around the show we make now, the one we make with me as anchor and you as my EP.”

“Well, if he's as good a writer as you seem to be sure he is then I'm sure he can work around it without me there.” Her voice almost drips with sarcasm and she lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I'm not coming back, Will, not until he's gone.”

“You know, if you'd had this much of an aversion to him when you and I were together, things might have been very different.” He watches something in her eyes change from anger to hurt, and he knows he shouldn't be treating her this way but he can't seem to stop.

“Get out.” She opens the door, frowning when he shows no signs of moving. “I mean it, Will. You need to leave. Right now.”

“Come on, Mac...” He knows he's out of line showing up unannounced and he doesn't want to leave knowing he's only added to her anger. “I didn't come over here to fight, I-”

“Really?” She slams the door and he thinks it's because she wants to spare her neighbours' ears, not because she's decided she'd like him to stay. “Then what the hell _did_ you come over here for?”

“I came over because you walked out this morning without even bothering to tell me you were going, and I wanted to know what the fuck was going on.” He watches as she moves away from the door, her hands on her hips. “Does that not make sense to you?”

“And like I've told you, I'm taking time off and I'll be back when Brian's gone,” she says. “What part of that doesn't make sense to _you_?”

“You know what?” He decides to just lay it on the line. “None of it makes sense. I mean, sure, it's probably not ideal that I hired your ex, but you're acting like I-”

“Not ideal?” She stops him, shakes her head, and lets out a small huff of humourless laughter. “You know, right now, it's hard to believe you ever had feelings for me, let alone that I came to New York hoping that maybe you still did.”

“What?” Her words make no sense considering he left her a message a couple of weeks ago telling her exactly that and she completely ignored it.

“Sometimes when you look at me, I genuinely don't know if you're about to kiss me or fire me.” She bites her lip and wraps her arms tightly around herself. “That's what.”

“You know what else makes no sense?” He doesn't think too hard about what he's about to say, he just decides to keep going, because fuck it, at this point it feels like he has nothing to lose. “That you're saying you hoped I might still have feelings for you. I don't understand how you can stand there and say that when you completely ignored me when I did tell you how I felt. I mean, shit, I know it took me long enough, I know I left it too late and by the time I did say something you'd decided to move on already, but-”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Her eyes are wide and she sounds genuinely confused.

“I guess I just kind of figured you'd tell me, you know...you missed the boat, Will, you're way too late, something like that.” He feels like a total shit but he knows he needs to be honest. “And I...well, I brought Brian in to do the story because I was pissed at you for not saying something after you got my message, and that was shitty, I can admit that now. I know I shouldn't have hired him at all, but If I take him off the story and have him gone by the end of the day tomorrow, will you consider coming back?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She frowns and steps closer.

“Will you come back to work if I see to it tomorrow that he's gone?” He repeats the question.

“Not that, I got that part.” She shakes her head, her tone filled with impatience. “Yes, make sure he's not there tomorrow and I'll come back, but you need to tell me what you're talking about. What message?”

“It was weeks ago, forget it.” He suddenly realises that, as much as he thought he did, he really doesn't want to hear her tell him she feels nothing for him anymore. “I should go, I'm sorry, I...I'll see you at work.”

“Oh no, you're going nowhere until you tell me the hell you're talking about.” She grabs his arm and almost drags him into the living room, sitting down and pulling him down beside her. “Did you just say you...you still have feelings for me, Will? Besides the ones of complete annoyance, I mean, because you make those pretty clear.”

“Wait, _now_ you want to talk about this? When you totally ignored it at the time?” He's starting to feel like he's in some surreal movie where they just keep asking questions but getting nowhere. “I told you how I felt, how I _feel_ , and you never said a thing, Mac. Not a fucking word.”

“I didn't ignore anything. That's what I'm saying,” she says, sighing. “I literally have no idea what you're trying to tell me.”

“The night of the Bin Laden broadcast? I left you a message, later, after I got home. You didn't call me back, you didn't mention it the next day, or at all, so I figured, you know, you didn't feel the same way.” He shrugs, embarrassed all over again at his declaration having fallen so flat. “I felt like a fucking idiot, and when I feel like an idiot I do...stupid things, I guess. I'll make sure Brian's gone first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You know, you leave me a lot of messages, and I always call you back, or at least yell at you the next day for calling at four in the morning, you _know_ that.” She looks confused and he's starting to slowly realise there's a possibility that she really doesn't have a clue what he's talking about.

“Yeah, but this was...different, I thought maybe you just didn't...” The look of expectation in her eyes confirms it; she didn't get the message. He takes a deep breath and wonders if he's about to make a terrible mistake. “I thought you didn't feel the same way so you didn't know what to say to me, and then I couldn't stop thinking that if I hadn't left it so late...and then I got mad, and instead of punching myself in the face, I took it out on you.”

“So, let me try to get this straight in my mind...you left me a message, which I clearly never received, and because I didn't respond, you decided to punish me by hiring the ex-boyfriend I cheated with to write a profile of our show?” God, it sounds even worse when she voices it out loud.

“Yeah. I realise now it was an asshole move, a really shitty asshole move.” He almost reaches for her hand but stops himself. “In my defence, I had no reason to think you hadn't got the message, so I-”

“It was a dick move, regardless, Will.” She stops him, and she's right. “More importantly, I _still_ don't know what the message said.”

“Right, so I, um, you know, I told you what a great job you did that night, and that, I...” He swallows hard, knowing this is it, he needs to tell her and face whatever her response is. “I think I may have used the word spectacular...”

“Jesus, Will, what did the message say?” She's almost yelling, and he can't help smirking just a little at her impatience.

“I told you I wasn't just saying it because I was high, but that I...” He pauses and this time he dares to reach for her, covering her hand with his own. “I told you I've never stopped loving you.”

“You... _what_?” Her eyes are so wide it's almost comical. “Present tense? As in, you still love me, like, now?”

“Yeah, now.” He's fairly sure she's asking for confirmation because she feels the same, and he dares to allow a thread of hope to take hold of him.

“Why didn't you just ask me if I got the message, you idiot?!” She pulls her hand from under his and prods him hard in the chest. “You could have saved me weeks of not knowing what the hell I'd done to make things turn to shit again, and you could saved the entire team from having Brian thrown in to cause havoc amongst them.”

“You know how wasted I was that night, Mac, I woke up the next morning wondering what the hell I'd done, and then when you said nothing about it, I figured I'd fucked up, _really_ fucked up, and the longer it went on, the more I figured I was too late..” He stops because she still hasn't quite confirmed she feels the same way he does. “So...was I too late? _Am_ I too late?”

“Think about this for a second...I came to ACN and you made it really clear you didn't want me around but I stayed, I signed a contract that gave you permission to fire me at the end of every week, and even with that hanging over me, I stayed. I watched while you paraded your hordes of women through the newsroom just to mess with me, and guess what? I stayed.” She shakes her head, smiling softly at him. “So are you seriously sitting here asking me if I love you, Billy?”

“Just needing to be sure, I guess.” He returns her smile and grabs her hand again, sliding his fingers between hers and squeezing.

She leans forward and before he knows it her lips are pressed against his, and her free hand is resting on his face, her fingers warm and soft on his skin. He'd forgotten how good it feels to touch her, to taste her, to feel her hand in his as he kisses her.

“Are you sure _now_?” She pulls back and smiles again. There's a faint flush in her cheeks and her eyes are sparkling in the way he's missed.

“Oh yeah,” he says, running his thumb over the back of her hand, his eyes fixed on hers. “I'm sure.”

“You know this changes nothing about Brian writing the story, right?” Her eyes may be full of sparkle and the smile still gently curves her lips, but there is no doubting her tone, serious and completely adamant.

“I know.” He nods, half-tempted to pick up the phone right now, but far more tempted to enjoy being with her instead. “I'll call him tomorrow, it'll be the first thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning.”

“The _very_ first thing?” She tilts her head and there's a playful pout on her face which suggests she had something far better planned for him.

“I'm open to suggestions,” he says, wondering if she's going to want to start now to get through all of the talking they definitely have to do.

“Good, because I intend to make some _really_ good ones.” Her hand slides onto his leg, her fingers stroking slowly up his thigh. “Assuming you're not planning to run off home right now, of course.”

“Does this mean I'm no longer in danger of being thrown out?” He's pretty sure he knows the answer, but he also knows she was deadly serious earlier and doesn't want to make assumptions.

“Hmm, you're safe for now.” She takes his hand, squeezes his fingers and leans into him, her head warm and familiar against his shoulder as they fall into a brief but comfortable silence which she eventually breaks. “Can I just say that this is the absolute last way I expected tonight to go?”

“I can understand that,” he says, wondering what might have happened had he left it until tomorrow to talk to her (not that he would have, he knows himself at least that well). “Did you think I'd just let you walk out this morning and not want to find out why?”

“I'm not actually sure.” She lifts her head to look at him, her nose crinkling as she thinks about it. “I knew you'd be annoyed, or whatever, but I...well, I really didn't care, I just needed you to know I wasn't going to stick around if Brian was there.”

“I'm sorry, you know.” He realises he hasn't said it, and that he really wants to. “For the Brian thing, I'm...I'm sorry.”

“I know.” She sighs but a smile rides in off the back of it. “You're an idiot, do you know that? How could you think I'd just ignore a message like that? I mean, seriously, you know me, and there is no fucking way I could have kept quiet.”

“I think maybe _idiot_ is a little harsh...” He grins, nodding because he knows she has a point. “But yeah, I guess I should have...what the fuck did happen to the message?”

“Not exactly the best time for modern technology to let us down,” she says with a soft sigh. “But hey, better late than never and here we are.”

“Yeah.” He squeezes her hand and feels a weight lifting from him, a weight he wasn't really aware he was carrying, a heavy load of anger, guilt, frustration, but mostly desperation to forgive her and for them to be happy again. He can't keep the smile from his face as he turns to her. “Here we are.”


End file.
